


Broken

by mother_hearted



Category: Silent Hill
Genre: Blood, Exposure, M/M, Non Consensual Gunplay, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-12
Updated: 2011-12-12
Packaged: 2017-10-27 05:44:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 837
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/292261
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mother_hearted/pseuds/mother_hearted
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>hello, henry</p>
            </blockquote>





	Broken

**Author's Note:**

> Written for kink_bingo @ dreamwidth, kink: exposure.

The trip through the hole is the same as the last, damp ground beneath his hands and knees. Screams scratched into the tunnel walls and the smell of copper heady in the air, he keeps his eyes closed and ignores the images that conjure themselves on his eyelids. It should be frightening, that even the horrors produced from his own mind can never prepare him for what he might find.

He's found enough, too much in the teeth marks trailing up his thighs and bruises battering his back.

Seeing orange instead of black, he must be reaching the end and after a moment his hand finds the edge. Fingers curling over before he slides his legs out, his other hand tightens over the handle of his axe. On his knees still, when he looks up and opens his eyes he finds himself staring up the barrel of a gun and his heart makes an attempt to leap out of his chest.

Walter Sullivan is standing in front of him, head cocked to the side and eyes measured, unmoving. His clothes are stained with more blood compared to the last time he found him, skulking around the forest while Eileen deciphered the hieroglyphics for him. He had run from him, guiding Eileen to a safe place once they escaped so he could grab a new weapon, some candles but every reason for every action he had is gone now, unimportant and pointless because he hasn't moved an inch either and he knows he's going to die.

He was waiting for him and at the half-hearted croak from his throat Walter smiles. The barrel is dragged from his eye to his forehead, then down the bridge of his nose and settles on his top lip. The gun is cold and the smell of the metal and oil fills his nose. He knows there's nothing but naked fear on his face, heart beating too fast to remain expressionless, to deny the effect he has on him. He's too afraid to even swallow, breathing shallowly through him nose and he imagines how his eyes must have gone glassy, resembling marbles and his lips press tight together, trembling under the cool metal.

"Hello, Henry."

His voice is deep and calm, too calm and unnerving and shame curdles in his gut when he feels tears sting the corners of his eyes. He can't hide, can't hide how afraid he is because he's about to be killed by a madman who smiles like he wants something and isn't he dead, how was he supposed to beat someone _who's already dead?_

The barrel drops to his bottom lip, tip running across and pulling it down, exposing his gum line. He wants to look down but he can't, eyes unable to break contact with Sullivan's and it hurts, the way the metal pulls on the tender flesh of his lip and chapped as they are, a cut forms in the middle, stinging.

"You should have heeded my warning, didn't I tell you?"

His voice is too low, drowning in _peace_ like he's chiding a small child and Henry certainly feels small, looking up at him, grip on his axe finally released because what's he going to do with it with a gun in his face. Part of him wants him to get it over with because waiting like this is torture all its own and Walter can see him, terrified and trembling and nothing can erase the fact he can do this to him, reduce him to this mess.

" _Don't go out_ ," he whispers and Henry moves finally, a choking sound when the gun suddenly forces its way between his lips, opening his jaw and the metal clinks hard against his teeth, crushing his tongue underneath. He can taste his own blood from his cut lip smeared across the barrel and tears fall pitifully, hotly down his cheeks. It slides deeper, cold and too big and the soft walls of his throat clench around it frantically trying to force it down or out. He keens, unable to endure both the fear and the pain and his eyes flicker rapidly between the gun and Walter's face, blurry with tears.

Except his face is closer as he leans in, eyes too wide and bright and he speaks so lowly it registers as _indecent._

"Your eyes are so beautiful like this, open and broken."

He wants him to stop talking, he wants the gun out of his mouth, he wants him to do it, he wants to throw up, he wants so many things he thinks his heart is about to give out.

"But it's not yet time."

A glop of saliva follows the gun when it suddenly slides out of his mouth, his jaw left shaking uncontrollably.

"I'll see you later Henry, I can't keep Mother waiting."

Henry stares as the man walks away, turning a corner down the hall and suddenly the footsteps are gone.

He falls over, forehead pressed to the concrete floor and he sobs.


End file.
